


Friends in Low Places

by RichmanBachard



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Accidental Choking, Alley Sex, Creampie, F/M, Flirting, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 20:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichmanBachard/pseuds/RichmanBachard
Summary: A seemingly random day in Ul’dah develops into something more, something raw.





	Friends in Low Places

**Author's Note:**

> More FFXIV OC goodness. Filthy this time, very filthy.

Seated amongst strangers, Mathias gazed into the bottom of his mug. He flashed anyone who might’ve looked his way a tired sort of smirk, yet his eyes softened whenever trapped in that misty, murky mug. He leaned his head to the right, popping it nicely to his content before the bartender finally regarded him. 

“Another, lad?” asked the bartender, sweetly, with a hint of a grovel as she dutifully cleaned the inside of a fellow mug. Mathias nodded in kind, and so his glass was filled anew - the scent of its contents pleasing him nicely, which added to his growing admiration.

“This stuff is rather good,” the Roegadyn admitted, his calloused fingers wrapping tightly around the mug to give the contents a light swirl. “I’m not normally one for such a concoction, but.. perhaps, today I am a new man.” The bartender made a pleased face at that, then walked off after the former gave a mild cheer with his drink. 

“A new man?” came a voice from behind, lighter and feminine, chipper in her tone. “You look the same to me.” Mathias glanced his eyes to the side, to his right - _down_, and into view came a Miqo’te to match the quip. It filled her form out well. Colorful, petit. She grinned at him. “What, not one for humor?” Her eyes softened slightly at the possibility, but sharpened immediately in his presence.  
“N-Nay, not that,” he clarified. “I’m simply-“ Mathias paused, his eyes squinting as his wheels turned. She took the seat to his right, her nimble fingers tapping rhythmically against the bar as a half-smile soon creased his lips. “Ah! I recall, didn’t I see you around here? The ma-“  
“The market board, yes,” she confirmed. “That lalafel looked so cute, and-and-“

“‘Twas rather busy today.” He took a sip from his drink, then sat it down. “Packed, haven’t seen that many there in quite a while.” His fingers ran through the scruff of his facial hair, his back lightly bumped by a passing Au Ra and Viera. He paid them no mind, accepting the half-hearted apology that was hastily given. Like the market, the center they resided in was similarly filled to the brim. So many at once made him briefly wear a look of malaise, a mild sigh escaping him. As he turned back, his eyes tracked his visitor taking a swig of her own - from his mug. His brows raised a touch as she swallowed the contents with a hearty gulp. “Um,” he barely managed, “I could have-“

Having damn near slammed the mug against the bar, she expelled a satisfied “_Ah_” before licking the last shreds of flavor from her lips. She flashed him her pearly whites, not immediately catching the awkwardness found in such an interim. “Sorry,” she offered. “Throat was particularly parched and I couldn’t help myself. You taste good.”

A healthy shade of red flushed across his chiseled, ivory cheeks, only somewhat covered by the ebony-colored makeup marking some of his features. In kind, she chuckled. “What is that brew anyhow?” 

“Special concoction,” he replied. She leaned in, intrigued as he continued. “Spiced cider, I’m told, mixed together with a splash of snurleberry and matcha tea. It shouldn’t work … and yet, it does. A gift from my gladiator teacher.” The thought of her brought a faint smile to his lips.

“Buy you another?” she asked with another toothy grin, her offer seeming genuine despite her precarious nature. He replied with a half-hearted thumbs up. She mimicked the gesture teasingly, then provided the necessary gil for the bartender to supply her with what she was after. In time, the duo were served. They clinked their mugs together, and then finally drank. 

After another hearty swig, she licked her lips and then spoke. “Neema.”  
He set his drink down. “Mathias.”  
“Big name for a big boy, not bad.”  
“Wh-“ He couldn’t help but laugh mildly. “Forgive the bluntness but I must say, do I amuse you, m’lady? Surely there must be something on my face, or … my back — a note, perhaps? A prank.”  
“Not at all, my good sir. You’re just so … big, and it’s funny to me, I like that, I saw you and my curiosity piqued.” She gave her shoulders the lightest of shrugs. “Figured I could find time in pestering a Knight today. It is quite fun.”  
He harrumphed. “I am no knight, m’lady.”  
“You certainly act like one.”  
“I also apparently taste good. For a Knight. Do you taste many?”  
She waited a beat. “Only some I deem worthy of tasting.”  
“Ahh, I should consider myself so lucky.”

She mocked a surprised look, clutching a hand to her chest. “Is that … sarcasm, I hear? From a knight? Hmph! And I here I thought it impossible!”  
“Perish that thought,” he replied. “I’m full of snark.”  
“Full of chocobo excrement, more like. I’ve heard talk of you: Affable, sure. Charming, debatable. But snarky?” Her tone of voice shifted, deepening so as to mock him. “Color me surprised if true, m’lord, lest this be a mere front?”  
Mathias laughed. “I’m rather concerned at what you’ve heard.”  
“Certainly nothing more I’ll share with the likes of you.” She poker at him, not just figuratively but now literally as well. “Can’t allow too big a head to form upon those big, broad shoulders.”  
He rubbed his chin, briefly. “Reasonable.” He smiled into his mug, taking another brief sip. “And yet I’ve heard almost nothing of you. New in town?”

“Just visiting.”

“And pestering.”

Neema clicked her tongue in response. “Always.” She tapped her knuckles against the wood of the bar once, twice, then looked behind her - at something, somewhere. Then, she spoke, “Thanks for sharing, Mathias.” She motioned her hand. “If you want, you can finish mine—see how I taste. Fair’s fair and all.” Before he could form a response, even a mere sound, she was off - having bounced away with catlike ease, a wry smile adorning her face.

All he could do was rub the back of his neck, the bartender mildly chuckling at his expense. All of the sudden, this woman had come and left in no time at all. So much to take in at once. He mustered no complaint, simply … acclimatization. He thought of her and her ways, and could only mutter the slightest thing. “Seven hells..”

—

In the days that followed, they happened to run into each other a few more times. Brief, friendly meetings in which they would amicably part - despite his mild, but playful irritation and her strong, but earnest teasing. 

She was … many things, yet the strongest feeling he could discern was one of an alluring quality. For as petit as she might have been, she was bubbling with color, of wit as dry as the desert and innuendos as layered as a moist slice of cake. The looks she would give him signaled numerous things, but he refrained from acting—from making a move. There were errands to run, companions to help. Rarely was there time for a romp in the hay with a cure girl. But … that had not stopped him from entertaining the idea, however. It was fun. Free and fleeting. A moment of relief amidst a week of battle, of travel. 

One day, she had practically scaled his form to sit upon his shoulders, facing forward. The weight brought little to the table, nothing he could not handle. She was light as a feather in comparison to, say, his own form. It was fine, her riding him like a puttering a wagon along a trail had been fine. It was, because as it dawned on him, he had made another friend. She was wild and precarious, full of energy and vigor - sometimes a touch too much, perhaps - but she grew to become a friend. And friends, he could do. 

  
—

The city of Ul’dah, with its winding streets and curvaceous design, lead to numerous off-shoots and exits. Were a visitor not careful, they could find themselves lost with relative ease. Like a maze, of stone and structure. To the natives, as well as the weathered, it fared much more easily for the likes of them. Naturally. And for those experienced in navigating its streets, one could take advantage of its design - its back-alleys and obscured hideaways.

To the novice, stumbling upon them would’ve been impossible. For someone more experienced, the risk was considerably higher, which only added to the allure. The light, wet sounds of something lewd - of kneaded flesh and soft cries.  
As it turned out, an off-handed joke from him had tumbled into something more, something sensual.  
Not that he could complain.

His hands roamed her form; gripping, kneading, desperate in his clutching as the Roegadyn took the Miqo’te from behind - their silhouettes cast against the intense glow of the beaming sun, its immediate light obstructed by the alley which housed their meeting. He was wracked with a kind of disbelief, the heat, the willingness, the need. Neema took him, all of him, and in turn all she could offer was the beg for more, more, more. Her pleas made his knees want to buckle, his body tired from a day of adventuring. His pain and exhaustion paled in comparison to the ferocious need gnawing at him and his senses, the eager and willing recipients teasing, chiding, and begging only worsening his lust. 

Neema’s hand - her free hand which wasn’t already braced against the wall like the other - fell upon her mouth to muffle the squeals and groans spilling forth. Her body shuddered from the orgasm coursing through her, struck like lightning she almost slipped from his grasp, forcing him to readjust; one hand gripping her waist, the other clutching the space between her shoulder and neck, his fingers haphazardly clutching at her throat. And he squeezed, his pelvis clapping against her curvaceous rump. 

Unbeknownst to him in his haste and lust, the grip upon her upper half was slowing closing off her path of air - the tension tightening, her body increasing with heat. She mustered a croak, barely filtering any noise through her being. As the edges of her vision began to darken, her consciousness dimmed. No thought other than savoring the physicality of to and fro, of being stuffed to the brim and brought to the brink in numerous ways. Mathias groaned, the sounds of his own carnal end soon approaching. With a grit of the teeth, a part of him wanted to hold on, to prolong the pleasure and yet so much of his being wanted nothing more than release. Having damn-near suspended her off the ground floor from the strength of his grip alone, his motions quickened as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her mind going blank as another orgasm wracked her molten-hot core.  
Quickly, hotly, the knot in his own core came undone as he pushed forward, bringing her petite figure to the hilt as he reached his peak, sowing his copious amounts of seed inside of her. Despite almost blacking out, a needy whine came from her throat as she was filled, relishing the feel of it.  
As his sense returned fully, he realized the strength in his midst and relented, letting her down easily as she gasped for air, her form shuddering still as he pulled out of her lewdly. 

“Oh my g- seven hells, I’m- I am so — Neema, are you — are you all right?” His knees cried out, the sweat of his forehead glistening from shreds of light. With ounces of their shared pleasure leaking from her well-fucked mound, both her hands briefly braces themselves against the wall, her back heaving slowly, quietly. “I’m sorry-“

“You.. _bastard_,” she said with a hiss. On heel, Neema spun with what little energy she currently had - and put it all into a forceful shove. Caught off-guard, Mathias stumbled back, leaning against the adjacent wall as she fell to the floor - her knees rubbing against the roughness of the ground. She bore the brunt of it, her insatiable lust overriding everything else as her hands toyed with his cock and balls. He groaned mildly as she stroked him to full-mast once more. In that moment Neema shot him a look, a glint in her eye. Betwixt the sea of wanton lust and desperation. “You.. you got another few in ya, I just know it … so give them to me.” A pause. “_Please._”

When they had first met, he had not fathomed an endpoint such as what had transpired, and yet … he was not one to complain. What happened from there, remained to be seen. The here and now pervaded his thoughts above all else, and the here and now was a hot, eager companion thirsting for more. 

Friends came in all shapes and sizes. With friends like these? It paid to order fanciful drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


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